“What happened here?” She surveys the overturned furniture from our conflict.
“What do you think?” I snap. “I had to restore order after you freed my brothers.”
She has the grace to look ashamed, then spots the food bags. She rushes forward, and the way her breasts bounce with the movement makes desire coil in my belly as delight transforms her face. “Oh my God, where did you find all this?”
She drops to her knees, sorting through the bags. The castle’s cold has preserved everything adequately.
“Cheese!” she exclaims, lifting a mottled yellow-and-white block.
“Is it supposed to appear so... diseased?” I ask with distaste.
She laughs—a musical sound that does strange things to my chest—and continues exploring. “And lettuce!” She holds the leafy greens against herself like a precious gift.
I assumed consorts valued only jewels and finery, but this one treats vegetation like treasures.
“Broccoli and onions and peppers!” She looks up at me with shining eyes. “Please tell me there’s an actual kitchen in thisancient fortress, and I don’t have to cook everything over the fire.”
I grunt acknowledgment. The word triggers old memories. I haven’t heard the word “kitchen” in forever. Not since Creator-Father walked these halls. He maintained elaborate cooking spaces for his delicacies.
“Follow me,” I command.
She repacks everything and attempts to lift the bags. They’re weightless to me, but she struggles visibly.
Part of me wants to ease her burden, while another part resents the impulse.
I cannot trust her completely. She still hasn’t explained her disappearance or those foreign male garments.
The thought makes me want to withhold the food until she confesses everything?—
But my Hannah... I recall her passionate responses last night, and despite her occasionally sharp tongue, she yields to me beautifully when it matters.
And she was walking toward the castle when I found her. Perhaps her mortal senses simply became confused in the snow, and she thought she was still fleeing.
I’ll extract the truth eventually. My Hannah-consort needs proper nutrition so my seed might take root and grow within her. Then she’ll have no choice but to accept this life as mother to my offspring.
So I take the burdensome bags, though only to expedite our progress.
“Come,” I repeat. “We cook.”
“Why have you reverted to single-word responses?” she asks as I claim the bags. She crosses her arms over her exposed breasts while walking, then drops them to match my longer strides. “You were quite eloquent this morning.”
Perhaps too eloquent. She should be answering my questions, not the reverse.
“Which male provided those clothes?”
She avoids my gaze. “I simply found them.”
“Where?” I bark.
Her eyes flash with familiar defiance. “Somewhere.”
I halt abruptly. “Do not test me. I will restrain you again.”
“So you’ll starve me instead?”
I look skyward, wishing for some deity to petition like she does constantly. But surely no God above would aid a creature like me. Starving her won’t advance my goal of getting her with child, so I remain silent and continue toward the stairwell, descending one level through a heavy door into the underground levels.
“Some assistance? Can you actually see in complete darkness? Because I certainly can’t.”
